


Railing

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Spirit’s out on the balcony when Stein comes out into the weapon’s living room looking for him.” Spirit can’t keep his mouth shut and Stein can’t keep his hands to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Railing

Spirit’s out on the balcony when Stein comes out into the weapon’s living room looking for him. It is dark outside -- night, rather than early morning, judging by the lingering gold at the edge of the horizon. Stein opens the door between them silently enough that Spirit doesn’t turn, and the scythe jumps when Stein reaches out to touch his waist.

“Ah!” He starts to turn before he sees who it is, so Stein can see the startled alarm in his face melt into a smile. “Oh, hey Stein. You’re up, then?”

“No,” Stein says levelly. He rests his hands light against the line of the weapon’s coat and leans in to press his forehead against Spirit’s shoulders so all he can see is black. “I’m still asleep in your bed. This is all a very detailed hallucination of yours.”

Spirit laughs and tips forward to rest his weight on the edge of the balcony. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Don’t ask silly questions. Spirit.” Stein slides his fingers around to pull back Spirit’s coat and brush over the thinner fabric of the weapon’s green shirt. Spirit shivers and half-laughs and Stein smiles against his shoulders.

“But it’s part of my charm.” The words are a statement but they come out like a question as Spirit speaks. Stein lifts his head and exhales slow just over the collar at Spirit’s neck.

“Yes.” That  _is_ a statement. The meister lets one of his hands go to come up and brush Spirit’s hair to the side. The scythe drops his head forward so the red hangs away from his neck and Stein can come forward to rest his mouth against the skin just over the weapon’s collar.

Spirit laughs. Stein can feel the movement against his mouth, nearly smiles, and slides his hand from Spirit’s hip to flatten the fabric of his shirt against the weapon’s stomach. Spirit takes a breath but doesn’t protest until Stein brings his other hand around the scythe’s neck to pull at the knot of his tie. Even then it’s not a complaint proper, just the weapon half-laughing “ _Stein_ ,” so the meister can ignore the tone of warning. He licks the edge of the weapon’s shirt, tugs the tie entirely free, and then Spirit grabs at the wrist against his stomach and twists around to face the meister.

“Stein,” he says again. He swallows and his gaze drops down to stick against the meister’s mouth in spite of his words. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Hm.” Stein steps in over the space between them. His hand is still closed around Spirit’s tie and the weapon’s movement has pulled it almost entirely free. He tugs it off the scythe’s shoulder, looks down to slide his thumb over the black silk. “You know. I really  _don’t_.”

Spirit leans back out over the balcony like he’s trying to back away from the meister, but there’s a flicker of a smile against his lips before he can control his expression, and when Stein tightens his fingers into the green shirt and tugs it loose of the weapon’s waistband he sucks in air but doesn’t reach out to actually push him away.

Still. Neutrality isn’t what Stein wants, exactly. He leans in over his weapon, brushes his lips just over Spirit’s mouth so the scythe sighs and comes forward for more before the meister pulls back. Spirit’s hands are closed against the railing of his balcony; Stein reaches out to trail his fingers over the weapon’s wrist without actually restraining the other man at all. “Do  _you_  want to go inside?”

Spirit hesitates, takes a breath of consideration, and Stein purses his lips to blow a line of warm air down the front of the weapon’s shirt.

“You know.” Spirit exhales and Stein can feel the breath shake as it blows over his hair. “I really don’t.”

Stein grins and leans in. “That’s what I thought.” He closes his fingers around Spirit’s wrist and twists the fabric of the tie around the weapon’s skin. “Concerned about having an audience?”

Spirit leans in to kiss Stein’s cheekbone, just shy of the meister’s glasses. “Concerned.” He pulls back, shrugs, laughs. “Excited. Same difference.”

Stein clicks his tongue and lets Spirit’s hand go so he can pull the trailing end of the tie around the railing of the balcony. “Oh  _good_.” He adds pressure to the cloth without looking so he can see confusion flicker over Spirit’s face as the weapon looks down, can see the laugh of pleasure sparkle into his eyes before he looks back up at Stein through his eyelashes.

“This is new.” He pulls against the cloth, not hard enough that he can wiggle his hand free, just enough for the meister to feel the token resistance in the fabric.

“Well.” He offers some force in response and Spirit twists his wrist to lie flat against the railing. There is a flash of bright teeth in the falling darkness, too quick to be anything but involuntary, and Stein’s lips quirk into a responsive smile as well. “Variety, spice of life, you know.” He takes a breath. “You may have some trouble with this.”

Spirit tips his head and lets Stein reach behind him to catch his other hand. “Do I look like I’m having trouble?”

“This isn’t what I’m talking about.” Spirit angles his arm to give Stein a better hold on his wrist and the meister draws the silk around it. “I’m talking about your ability to be quiet.” He shifts his weight forward without moving his feet so he’s leaning into the weapon’s personal space, so when they inhale they’re breathing the same air and he can gently press his leg between the weapon’s. When Spirit gasps in hard Stein laughs soft.

“ _That’s_ what I’m talking about.” He knots the end of the fabric around itself and lets his hold go, steps back a stride so he’s not against the weapon anymore. Spirit tries to follow and comes up short against the ties on his wrists before he falls back against the railing. “Secure, then?”

Spirit pulls again, wiggles his wrists. “It would seem that way.”

“Oh good.” Stein comes back in, drops down to a knee in front of the weapon and grabs the edge of Spirit’s pants to pull the scythe’s hips forward. Spirit laughs and shifts his weight back so he can arch up into Stein’s touch. The meister pulls the rest of Spirit’s shirt free from his waistband and comes in to kiss the skin thus exposed while he frees the buckle of Spirit’s belt.

Spirit is quiet and still while Stein gets his pants open. He doesn’t pull against the tie, doesn’t gasp or speak so all Stein can hear is the faint whisper of his breathing almost-steady in the night air. There is a single half-panicked inhale as the meister gets Spirit’s pants open, and the weapon twists to glance down at the empty street below, but his cock is going hard under Stein’s fingers, and when Stein licks against the hot skin Spirit inhales sharp and surprised and rocks up into the touch.

“Spirit,” Stein says very softly without looking up at the weapon’s face.

“ _Stein_.” The word is thrumming with tension and faint irritation, and Stein smiles to himself and takes Spirit into his mouth. Spirit gasps and laughs, and Stein wonders distantly if the shading of pleasure under the sound would be as audible to a stranger as it is to him. He slides back, Spirit drops against the railing so his wrists are pinned between his back and the balcony edge, and when Stein brings his mouth forward again, slow and careful, Spirit takes a breath and holds it and stays quiet.

It works, for a while. Stein starts slow and Spirit is clearly focusing on the setting, because the weapon stays quiet when he usually keeps up a running monologue interspersed with moans and encouragement, although the meister can feel his body going tense with the effort via his gentle hold on Spirit’s waist. But when Stein takes more of Spirit into his mouth and tightens his grip the weapon gasps in a startled breath, and when he shifts his tongue Spirit gasps and comes forward to pull hard against the railing.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moans, and there is  _no_  question of what  _that_  sounds like. Stein has to pull away because his mouth is trying to curve into a smile.

“Spirit,” he says. “You are  _terrible_  at staying quiet.”

“Well you’re -- you’re --” Spirit falls back against the railing and laughs high and breathy. “You’re terrible at  _not_  tying me to the balcony outside my apartment.”

Stein laughs without meaning to and comes back in so Spirit chokes on his words and groans again. It doesn’t really matter -- Stein doesn’t care for his own sake. Most of the fun of this is in Spirit’s half-panic at the idea of getting caught and the way his throat goes all strained and desperate while he fights the losing battle to restrain himself. The fact that he is and has always been terrible at self-control is more charming than anything else. After all, it’s Spirit, and Stein has always found Spirit charming just as he is.

When the meister glances up Spirit’s eyes are shut, his head thrown back so his hair is hanging straight down instead of pooling against his shoulders and collar. From the way his back is arched and how hard he is breathing, it’s clear what’s going on even without the extra tip-off of his wrists tied to the railing or Stein in front of him. It’s beautiful, really. Stein is almost sorry that he can feel the weapon trembling under his hands, that Spirit is gasping for breath with all the tells of impending orgasm. It would be fun to drag this out longer. But when he brings his head forward Spirit bucks his hips forward towards him and pulls so hard at the railing that it rattles against its fastenings, and the weapon gasps, “Don’t stop,” with only the faintest consideration for volume, and Stein keeps going without even pausing to tease him.

Spirit’s breathing goes steady a moment before he comes; Stein can feel the tension in his legs and the still anticipation in his body, but he sighs an exhale soft-edged with satisfaction just before he jerks forward and groans loud with absolutely no concern for the setting. He starts to laugh as soon as the first wave passes, the sound needlessly soft now and punctuated with gasps as the final ripples of pleasure hit.

“Oh my god Stein,” he finally says as Stein slides free and swallows the salty come in his mouth. “That was amazing and we are  _so_  going to get caught one of these days.”

“ _You’re_  going to get caught,” Stein responds, keeping his eyes down and coming in once more. It’s not that he  _needs_  to lick Spirit clean, really, but the contact makes the scythe twist and moan again, and that makes Stein smile. “I can keep my mouth shut.”

“Well, actually, I have some evidence to the contrary,” Spirit manages, and Stein glances up at him and has to laugh at the weapon’s smirk.

“I can stay  _quiet_ , at least.” Stein closes Spirit’s pants, gets to his feet, and leans in to reach behind the other man and loosen the knot in the tie on the weapon’s hands. Spirit twists his wrists free as soon as there is enough slack, bringing them up to Stein’s hair and pulling the meister into a kiss.

“Mm,” he says as he pulls back, voice low and dreamy with the post-coital calm. “I can taste myself on your mouth.”

Stein raises his eyebrows. “Are you complaining?”

“No.” Spirit comes back in, goes sideways to press his nose against Stein’s neck and breathe down the collar of his shirt. “Just observing. I thought you liked that, observation?”

“I do.” Spirit’s freed hands are  _not_  staying still; he’s got one up against Stein’s neck, but the other is trailing down the meister’s waist with pointed care. Stein reaches out to brace himself against the railing and to lean in farther into the weapon. “I like a lot of things.”

“I have noticed that.” Spirit’s fingers are at the waistband of his jeans. Stein doesn’t move to help but he does turn slightly sideways so the weapon has a better angle on his approach. “And it really doesn’t seem fair that I should always have the burden of silence in these things.” He’s getting faster at undoing the fastenings one-handed; Stein can hear the delight in his voice as his fingers comes past the edge of fabric. “Shouldn’t there be a control group as well?”

Spirit’s hand curls gentle around Stein’s cock. The meister exhales a little too fast, but takes a minute to steady his voice before he speaks into Spirit’s hair. “I don’t think you quite understand the principle of a control group.”

Spirit laughs. “Do you want me to  _stop_?”

Stein rocks forward into Spirit’s touch, lets the hand against the weapon’s hair pull the other man in closer for a moment. “No.”

“Good.” Spirit comes up from Stein’s neck and tips his head up so Stein can shift in and kiss him. The meister is moving as quick as the weapon does, deliberately gentle in his movements although his breath is coming too fast when he tries to inhale. When Spirit pushes against Stein’s shoulder the meister turns without being asked, swapping places so his back is to the railing and Spirit is in front of him.

The weapon reaches out to tug at the end of the tie clutched in Stein’s fingers with the hand not currently sliding over the meister’s cock. “Same circumstances?”

Stein leans back against the railing and curls his fingers around the metal, takes a breath and waits for Spirit to look up at his eyes. “I think I can keep my hands back by myself, actually.”

Spirit’s eyebrows come up. “Is that a  _challenge_?”

Stein has to smile, although his breathing isn’t getting any steadier. “It might be.”

“Well.” Spirit comes down to his knees, slides in close to Stein’s hips. Stein watches him go and sucks in a nearly-silent breath of anticipation. “I’ll have to bring my best game, won’t I.” He doesn’t offer any other warning before his mouth is replacing his fingers.

Stein nearly disproves his point all at once. He has to tip his head back to look up at the stars appearing in the night sky, cling to his inhale and his focus to keep from groaning and reaching out to touch Spirit’s hair, face, neck while the weapon’s mouth slides warm and wet over his cock. He does manage it, though, and after a moment he is able to exhale and take another breath, carefully, and then he looks back down.

Spirit is looking up at him through his hair, trying to smile so Stein can see the tension at the corners of his mouth in spite of the obstruction in his mouth. The meister takes another breath, and it’s uneven but still quiet, and then he tries speaking, very soft so Spirit can barely hear him.

“You’re beautiful, Spirit.”

The weapon blushes and slides free to respond in a similar tone. “You’re just saying that because I’m sucking you off.”

Stein laughs under his breath and Spirit grins before coming back in. “I am not.” He looks back up and away; his voice is starting to shake, volume grating higher without his control. “Though that does accentuate the effect.”

Spirit laughs. Stein can feel the exhale blowing across his skin, and then the weapon comes back in and he has to shut his eyes again to focus on keeping his breathing quiet and his hands steady where they are. Stein doesn’t have much or any comparison to Spirit’s technique, but even relative to himself the scythe has gone from good to  _amazing_  in the last few months; when he thinks about it he can identify Spirit deliberately humming in his throat or sliding his tongue in counterpoint to the movement of his lips, but he is trying not to in favor of proving his own self-control.

He  _does_  stay quiet. Stein has only appreciated Spirit’s penchant for continual conversation, never imitated it, so it’s much easier for him to hold back the purrs of satisfaction his throat tries to offer up. The hands, though, are  _much_  harder. He can feel his knuckles going white with the intensity of his grip, as if holding tighter will make keeping them where they are easier, and when Spirit slides almost entirely away and comes back in all at once he can only keep from touching him by expedient of bucking his hips forward and exhaling as hard as he can. The weapon laughs at the back of his throat and that feels  _amazing_  too, the vibration coming through his tongue and lips both, and Stein arches his back out over the railing and reflects that he is probably proving to be no more subtle than Spirit himself to a hypothetical audience.

When Spirit brings his hand back in and starts sliding his hand over slick skin in time with the movement of his mouth, Stein knows he’s not going to last much longer. Whether from experience or intuition Spirit picks up the pace, and Stein bites his lip to stay quiet and loses his focus on his hands, so he reaches out with his left to clutch desperately at Spirit’s shoulder. Spirit slides his free hand up under the edge of Stein’s shirt to brush his fingers against the skin of the meister’s hip, and purrs back in his throat, and curls his tongue against Stein’s cock, and Stein looks down and rocks forward and comes hard into Spirit’s mouth.

His vision goes briefly, brain too focused on pleasure to bother with things like sight, and when Spirit comes back into focus the weapon is pulling back and grinning wide.

“You stayed quiet,” he informs the meister as he refastens the meister’s pants and gets to his feet. “But I thought you were supposed to keep your hands to yourself?”

Stein’s traitorous fingers are still against Spirit’s shoulder. He brings them sideways to align with the weapon’s neck, smiles at Spirit’s shoulder instead of his face. “Temptation got the better of me.”

“Terrible,” Spirit teases, but he is stepping in close to wind his arms around Stein’s neck. “I’m appalled by your lack of self-control, Stein.” He bumps his nose against the bridge of Stein’s glasses, smiles and almost-laughs against the meister’s mouth. “Want to find out how  _you_  taste?”

“What were just saying about observation?” Stein asks rhetorically, and closes the minimal distance between their mouths.


End file.
